


Never Knew What a Good Time Was 'Til I Had a Good Time With You

by riots



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Drinking & Talking, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lu Han is the last person in the world Minseok expects to meet at one of his shows, but he's aiming to be one of the most memorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Knew What a Good Time Was 'Til I Had a Good Time With You

“One.” Kris has on his no-nonsense face, sleeves carefully rolled up to his elbows, and he's studiously avoiding looking at Jongdae's wheedling smile as he cleans a glass.

Jongdae doesn't seem to think this is any hindrance, stretching across the bar to stick his head right under Kris' nose. “Three,” he argues. “C'mon, playing is thirsty work. You're not even paying us that much!” Minseok assumes that the way he's batting his eyelashes is supposed to be appealing but he mostly looks like he's got something in his eye.

Amber nudges her elbow against Minseok's and grins, her dark-rimmed eyes bright with laughter. “Ten thousand won says Kris shuts him down,” she says.

Snorting, Minseok shoves her back. “Are you kidding me? No bet,” he scoffs. Jongdae throws him a wounded look over his shoulder and Minseok tips a shoulder, shrugs.

“Will you get off my nice clean bar top?” Kris sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, his thick, manicured eyebrows creasing. “I'm already paying you guys more than you're worth, I'm not going to let you drink me out of business.” When Jongdae persists, Kris wedges one big hand against his face and very firmly knocks him off.

Minseok grins down at Jongdae, sprawled on the floor. “I don't think you're winning this one,” he says, holding out a hand. Jongdae wrinkles his nose, running a hand through his shock of dark, messy hair, but he takes the hand up.

“It's only fair,” he grumbles, throwing a meaningful look in Kris' direction. “We're playing his bar for _pennies_ , he can afford to comp us at _least_ three beer.” He sighs heavily and props his chin up in one hand, pouting dramatically as he follows Kris' movements behind the bar with his eyes.

Kris answers this with a pleasant smile. He pops the top off a beer and passes it teasingly in front of Jongdae's face before turning and presenting it to Amber instead with a flourish. She tosses her head back and laughs. “Now, get onstage,” he says, waving a hand at them. “What am I paying you for? The girls go on at ten and God knows they draw a better crowd than you sorry fucks.”

“You are bossy,” Jongdae declares, pointing a finger at him, which Kris promptly ignores in favour of looking after some actual, paying customers.

Before Jongdae can start into the whole beer argument again, Minseok slides off his stool, settling his hands on Jongdae's narrow shoulders and steering him through the crowd to the stage at the back of the room. “Easy, tiger,” he says. “Save that shit for the stage.”

Chanyeol is already there, doing a bit of a haphazard, last minute sound check. He hasn't bothered to put his hair up tonight, and his long, faded orange bangs hang in his eyes. “One beer,” Jongdae grumbles as he tugs off his jacket. “Cheap motherfucker.”

Minseok follows suit, tossing his coat sidestage and rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. “Channel it,” he advises Jongdae, grinning, and he slides behind his drum kit. “Use the rage. Your beer-free rage.”

There's a burst of feedback as Amber plugs in her bass, and she pulls a face, her eyes widening in surprise. “No beer,” Jongdae says, hefting his microphone. He winds the cord around his wrist and he strikes a pose. “Now that is true punk rock.”

“Amen, brother,” Chanyeol says, and he punctuates it with a flourish on his guitar.

They take a few more minutes to warm up. Jongdae spends most of it trying to steal Amber's beer. She evades him easily even with her bass slung around her neck, and when he finally snags the bottle from her hand, he only gets a mouthful. Before Jongdae has a chance to complain, Minseok plays a quick rimshot and raises his eyebrows at him, a bit of a smirk on his lips.

“Alright, alright,” Jongdae concedes, holding a hand up in surrender. He turns instead to face the decent crowd gathered in the bar, one hand coming to rest on the mic stand. His threadbare, over-sized t-shirt hangs off his thin frame. He glances over his shoulder and grins at Minseok before he raises the mic to his lips. “We're Run and Gun. What the fuck is up?” he roars, and without preamble, they launch into the first song.

It's been a while since they've played Kris' place, but it's always been one of Minseok's favourite venues. The kids are packed right up to the stage, close enough that they could reach out and grab Jongdae. It's perfect, because the intimacy fuels him. Jongdae's a talented singer, but it's the crowd that really pushes him. He's a livewire tonight, bouncing around the tiny stage and dropping to his knees to get on the audience's level, letting them scream into the mic with him. There's nothing like it, the energy of the crowd. It makes it all worthwhile.

Minseok's got his shirt off by the third song, out of breath and overheated, sweat beading at his hairline. He's a bit out of practice, but this is still his favourite feeling in the world. Watching Jongdae prop himself up the mic stand while they all take a breather, rambling about the last song, Amber passes him a water bottle. “Showin' off for the ladies, huh?” she teases, wiping at the sweat that drips down her forehead and plasters her bleached blond bangs to her face.

He raises one arm and flexes his not inconsiderable muscles, twisting to kiss his bicep. “Free tickets to the gun show, baby,” he says, and he doesn't even mind when she gives him an incredulous look and presses her hand to her forehead, the corners of her mouth turning up.

“Okay,” Jongdae says suddenly, and he raises his arms, trying to get as much quiet as he can. “Enough chatter. Let's do this.” That's all the signal Minseok needs to toss aside his water and play the opening beat to the next song, their most popular from their last album. Chanyeol whoops, his grin bright in the dim lighting of the bar, and Minseok tosses his head back and laughs.

They pull the rest of the set off without incident, which is a miracle, considering how Jongdae is ricocheting around the stage. The audience cheers when they finish, and Jongdae basks in it, spinning in a slow circle with his thin arms raised in the air. They play an encore, even with Kris eyeing them darkly from the bar and when they're done, Minseok's shoulders ache. He's still smiling, though. There's nothing like it.

They scramble to take down their stuff before the girls head on. Kris is ready with a nice cold beer by the time Minseok comes back in, and he doesn't even bother to take a drink, instead taking a second to press the bottle against his hot throat.

“Hey, hyung.” Minseok's eyes flick over as one long, skinny arm winds around his sweaty shoulders. “Good show tonight.”

“Long time no see, kid,” Minseok smiles amiably up at Sehun. It's been a while since he's made it to one of their shows, presumably since he was too busy with his internship. He looks like he's gotten taller, if that was even possible. He's almost up there with Kris and Chanyeol these days. “Thanks for coming out.”

“I brought a friend,” Sehun tells him, his arm sliding free. He gestures towards someone sitting at the bar. The guy looks younger than Sehun and completely out of place, with his neat, blue and white striped shirt and his thick-framed glasses. He's not as tall as Sehun is, but he's close. It's a good thing Minseok doesn't have a complex about his short height, because all his friends seem to tower over him “Hyung, this is Lu Han.”

Lu Han is getting quick sideways glances from just about everyone who passes him, but he seems completely unconcerned. Huh, Minseok thinks, as he raises his beer in greeting. He gets points for that. “What's up?” he says, his voice loud to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “Enjoy the show?”

“It definitely was _not_ what I was expecting,” Lu Han says, and he raises his eyebrows pointedly at Sehun for a second. “But yeah, you guys were pretty great.” He adds it on quickly enough that it makes Minseok grin, and next to him, Sehun snorts. Lu Han slugs him in retaliation, and Minseok doesn't miss the way that Sehun recoils or how Lu Han immediately soothes him with a hand on his shoulder. “You must be good, right? There's a decent crowd here tonight.”

“Is that what makes a band good?” Minseok asks, a smile tugging at his lips. The crowd isn't for them, not for the most part, anyway. They're here for Devil's Vengeance, a local all-girl band with enough fire to bring the house down, but it feels nice, in a roundabout kind of way.

Lu Han shrugs, unapologetic, and then he's sliding his fingers around Minseok's elbow, bending to speak right into his ear. It's a kind of intimate gesture for someone he's just met. “You're good,” he says, his lips brushing against the shell of Minseok's ear on the last syllable. Minseok dodges away, not sure he likes it. “Have you been drumming long?” His Korean is clear, only faintly accented.

When Lu Han straightens again, his smile is perfectly pleasant. Minseok still can't quite judge how old he is. “Yeah, years and years.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot and takes another sip of his beer.

Lu Han opens his mouth to reply, but that's when noise erupts from the back of the room. Looks like the girls are starting their set. “Hey, there,” Sunny croons into the mic, cocking one hip. She's tiny and tough as nails and tonight, she's got a streak of bright purple through her hair. “We're back. Did you miss us?” The crowd erupts in noise as Yuri plays the opening chords to a fan favourite track.

Minseok taps his bottle against Lu Han's shoulder and jerks his head towards the stage. “You're gonna wanna catch this,” he says. “The DVs put on a killer show.”

Sehun's already headed into the crush, ready to catch a front row seat. Minseok is certain that Jongdae is right up front, and has been from the start. Shameless, as always. “Mind if I hang back with you?” Lu Han asks hopefully. “Not sure I'm ready to jump into all that.”

The pit's already in full swing, and Minseok catches a glimpse of faded orange and a dumb grin. “Suit yourself,” he agrees. He's pretty sure Sehun would have his ass anyway, if Minseok lets his friend get in over his head.

He waves Kris over for another beer and as he settles back against the bar to watch the set, Lu Han leans up next to him. His arm brushes up against Minseok's when he goes to take a drink. It's too hot for this kind of close contact, and back by the bar, nowhere near crowded enough to merit it. Still, Minseok thinks, looking at Lu Han sidelong, he gets the feeling that if he stepped away, Lu Han would just follow. Trust Sehun to leave him to babysit a stranger.

“First time?” Minseok asks, finally, during a lull. Lu Han's eyes have been glued to the stage, and he doesn't blame him. Devil's Vengeance don't just own the stage, they reign over it. Some kid in the crowd hoists himself up on the stage, grabs Sunny's mic, screaming along with her. She gives him exactly five seconds and then she raises one big boot and kicks him back into the pit, grinning the whole time.

Lu Han nods, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I've never been to a show like this,” he admits. “It's something else.”

That doesn't surprise Minseok to hear, and he smirks a little. Lu Han looks like the type to go to shows with sweet-voiced singer-songwriters or bearded guys with banjos. “Just wait until you get in the pit,” he says, and he can't help but laugh when Lu Han throws him a wary look, faintly alarmed.

Lu Han is still right at his shoulder when Sehun emerges again, his shirt stuck to his broad shoulders and hair lank and in his face. The girls have just wrapped up their last song, and Sehun snags Lu Han's collar and tugs. Lu Han's makes a face as his shirt pulls at his throat, and he rolls his eyes. “Time to go, hyung,” Sehun says. “Work tomorrow.”

Ah. That explains where Sehun picked this guy up. His internship at the magazine. “Nice meeting you,” Lu Han says to Minseok. He untangles Sehun's hand from his shirt and holds it between the two of his, instead. Sehun just uses this new grip to pull him towards the door. “See you around?” Lu Han asks over his shoulder.

Minseok shrugs. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “You should catch our next show, we're playing Dorado on Friday.”

“I can do that,” Lu Han tells him, and Minseok smiles despite himself. He waves as they head through the door, and Minseok presses the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips thoughtfully. Huh.

He doesn't get much of a chance to think though, between the pleasant buzz of the beer and assault by one sweaty Jongdae. Years of practice have him swapping his beer into the hand furthest away from Jongdae and holding it out of his reach in a second. Jongdae isn't even fazed by his failure to obtain free alcohol. “That was amazing,” Jongdae hums as Minseok pries his sticky arm off him. “I was _this_ close.”

“And yet, so far away,” Minseok smirks. He dangles his half-finished beer in front of Jongdae's nose as a bribe. “I'm about ready to cut out. Are you gonna go worship at the altar of Yuri or can we go home?”

Jongdae considers this for a second, pushing his sweat-soaked bangs back before he lunges for the bottle. “Not tonight,” he says wistfully. “They're heading out early tonight to get to their next show.” He drains Minseok's drink impressively quickly and slams the bottle down, grinning up at Kris when he glares. “Let's go.”

They slip out into the cool summer night for the quick trip home. Jongdae is wobbly from exertion and half-drunk, so Minseok finds himself damp with secondhand sweat all over again. Small price to pay though, really. Even so long after their set, he's still buzzing with the adrenaline and when Jongdae hooks one wiry arm around his neck and whoops into the empty streets, he laughs along with him

 

 

-

 

 

Jongin's dozing behind the cash again. The store is empty and Minseok pauses where he's been reorganizing the Ms, watching him. This could get good. Jongin's eyes flutter open for a second, and he wavers in his precarious position on the stool. Minseok knows, of course, that he should be the good hyung and go over and wake Jongin up before he injures himself. But where's the fun in that?

His grin broadens as Jongin's chin droops towards his chest and then snaps up, startling him awake and making him jerk off the stool. He stumbles into the counter before he can steady himself, his eyes half-lidded and bewildered.

“Damnit,” Minseok laughs, and Jongin narrows his eyes at him. “I was betting on you faceplanting into the cash.”

Jongin colours. “I'm tired,” he grumbles.

Minseok nods, expertly sliding a CD in between Minor Threat and Mischief Brew. “Someday you're gonna have to start sleeping on your weekends off.” If he did, it would serve a couple of purposes: one, Jongin would stop power-napping during their off times, leaving Minseok to do all the work. Two, it would get rid of those worrying dark circles under Jongin's eyes. And three, maybe he'd get to stop hearing all about Jongin's weird sex life. He's had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Maybe I've got better things to do,” Jongin says slyly, and he smirks at Minseok. “Don't be jealous.”

“Jealous!” Minseok scoffs, incredulous. “Of what?”

Jongin raises his eyebrows, daring Minseok to argue the point, when the door chimes, announcing a customer. Even as Minseok heads to greet them, he shrugs and holds up his hands, mouthing 'no' at Jongin. “Hey,” Minseok says, rounding the last set of shelves. “Welcome to – oh, shit, hey.”

Lu Han stands in the door, peering around the store curiously, Sehun at his shoulder. Nine Lives is a tiny little hole in the wall, tucked between a restaurant and a cafe and far longer than it is wide. The aisles are narrow, and the walls are stacked high with secondhand albums. “You know,” Lu Han says as Sehun pushes past him and heads towards the cash. “I had no idea this place was even here” His tone makes it unclear if he's curious, or maybe a little amused.

Minseok leans carefully back against the shelves and crosses his arms. “So what brings you around these parts, then?”

“The magazine is like, three blocks down. Sehun told me you work here.” Lu Han flashes a quick smile, eyes bright behind his thick-framed glasses. “I thought I'd drop by, say hi.” He stretches one arm out and flicks idly through a nearby rack, but he doesn't seem to be actually looking at any of the records.

Honestly, Minseok hadn't thought much about Lu Han since they'd met last week, and he definitely hadn't expected him to show up here. “Good to see you,” he says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jongin craning his neck and squinting curiously at them. Minseok rolls his eyes and clears his throat. Might as well get it over with. “Jongin, this is Lu Han. A friend of Sehun's from, uh, the magazine?”

Lu Han nods. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

“We're on lunch,” Sehun announces. He's perched on the counter, and he kicks his heels noisily against it. “Except _somehow_ , there is no food.”

“Brat,” Lu Han calls, and when he grins, there's something ugly about the way that it pulls at his delicate features. “You need to work on your patience.”

Sehun shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “No,” he says, in the tone of someone speaking to a difficult child. “You need to work on making my empty belly not empty.” He pats his stomach and raises his eyebrows. “Some of us are paid by the hour.” Jongin, from his spot leaning over the counter, reaches out an arm and slaps his palm hard against Sehun's middle. He grins, devious, when Sehun crumples, groaning, and swats back in return.

“You could come with us,” Lu Han suggests, and Minseok looks back at him, surprised. “If you want.” He smirks a little as he gestures at the tiny, empty store. “Jongin can totally handle things, right?”

Minseok is fairly certain that Jongin could handle the store, if he could, you know, stay awake. Things are always slowest during the middle of the day. “Why, you buying?” he asks.

He likes the way that Lu Han's mouth drops open a little and narrows his eyes. “I wasn't aware that I was offering,” he says dryly, but it's not a no, and the corner of his mouth draws up in a crooked smile.

“You're totally offering,” Sehun tells him, hopping off the counter. He tugs viciously at Jongin's hair once and then he sidles up to Lu Han. He's scented blood and he's going in for the kill. “C'mon, hyung. We're on the clock.”

Minseok glances back at Jongin, who shrugs and waves him off vaguely. “Well?” Lu Han asks, and he tips his head. “Final offer.”

Who is Minseok to turn down free food? “Alright,” he says, and Lu Han grins. Sehun is the most excited, already halfway out the door before Minseok's even done speaking. “Why not, right?”

“I'll hold down the fort,” Jongin says, saluting sleepily. That makes Minseok vaguely uneasy, but he still lets Lu Han sweep him out the door and into the bright, midafternoon sunlight. He's hungry, anyway, and the company will be nice. He watches as Lu Han catches up with Sehun, hooking his arm in his, and listens to them squabble over what to eat. Well, some definition of nice, anyway.

 

 

-

 

 

Lu Han, it turns out, is kind of aggressively friendly. Minseok finds himself dragged out almost every day for his lunch break, and it's really not all that bad. Lu Han has all the good street vendors scoped out, and he knows the best places to sit and eat to take advantage of the weather.

Like today. The sun is hot against Minseok's back as he stuffs the last piece of tteokbokki into his mouth and licks his lips clean. “You know,” Lu Han is saying, “I'm halfway convinced that Sehun and the photocopier are in cahoots.” They'd forgone sitting on the nearby benches to park themselves instead on one of the low, concrete garden walls. It's always sunniest by the chrysanthemums, and Lu Han is leaning back on one hand, idly tapping his shoes. He points his chopsticks at Minseok. “I mean, is it really a coincidence that the kid cursed me and then not even an hour later the photocopier is jammed? Right when I needed it, too.”

Minseok hums in agreement, neatly folds his garbage up into tiny squares and stands to throw it away. When he turns back, he realizes that this is the first time that he's ever seen Lu Han look even slightly embarrassed. “Sorry,” Lu Han says. “I know this stuff is boring. This deadline coming up – I think I'm losing my mind.”

“Nah,” Minseok replies, settling himself down across from Lu Han again. He's still got a little while before he needs to be back, but it's not like he minds hanging out with Lu Han and listening to him talk. He clearly likes to talk. “It's kinda neat, it's like watching the Discovery channel. I get to hear about how the other half lives.”

Lu Han makes an indignant sound, his mouth dropping open, and for a split second, Minseok wonders if he's misjudged Lu Han's limits. “I can't decide whether or not to be insulted,” Lu Han says, and Minseok grins, because he almost sounds admiring. “I am not the other half.”

Tapping the small ring in his nose, Minseok raises his eyebrows. “Are you so sure about that?” he asks. He gestures at Lu Han's brightly coloured printed t-shirt and cardigan for emphasis. “I mean...”

“You think you're so tough,” Lu Han accuses, and he nudges Minseok with an elbow. It's funny, really, that the first time that their conversation doesn't feel a bit stilted and awkward is when they're making fun of each other.

“Well, I mean, compared to you – ” This time, Lu Han pushes him harder, and he rocks in his seat. “Hey! You're the one who keeps filling in the blanks.”

Lu Han balls up his napkin and flicks it at Minseok. It falls short, bouncing off his chest and landing in his lap. “Did you know you are terrible lunch companion?”

His lunch hour is wrapping up, and he really should be getting back to the store. Minseok tosses out the garbage Lu Han threw at him and stretches his arms up over his head, yawning. “I could be Sehun,” he points out.

Lu Han groans dramatically. “Don't remind me,” he sighs. “I have to go pick him up coffee before I head back.”

They head back in the direction of the store and the magazine, and Minseok looks at Lu Han sideways. “Isn't he the intern? I thought you were the big, impressive writer dude.”

“You would think,” Lu Han says darkly. They hit the corner and pause. “Alright, I'm headed back this way.” He raises his eyebrows. “Same time tomorrow?”

Minseok shakes his head. “Nah.” Lu Han's face falls a little, but he does a good job of hiding it. “I'm off tomorrow,” he clarifies. “I'm on Wednesday, though.”

“I'll be there,” Lu Han tells him.

They head their separate ways, but a thought occurs to Minseok and he turns, walking backwards. “Spit in his coffee,” he calls to Lu Han. He gets a thumbs up and a shout of laughter in return.

 

 

-

 

 

It's on another one of these lunches that Lu Han wiggles Minseok's fondness for soccer out of him, which is why he's here, now, at some godawful time on a Monday morning in a local park, because they both have work later. Normally, Lu Han has told him, he plays with a friend of his from the magazine, but he's out of town on a story for a few months. And of course, Lu Han can't get rusty, can he? “Come on,” Minseok calls, clapping his hands together in the early morning cool. “Any day now.”

Lu Han's dressed for it, he's even got the socks on, so that only his pale knees are bare. “It's a bit early to be getting cocky,” Lu Han calls in reply. He bounces the ball on his knee a few times and then pauses, grinning at Minseok. “Are you sure you're ready?”

He's not, honestly. Minseok hasn't played soccer in years. He's incredibly out of practice, and he's not even sure how he managed to let Lu Han talk him into this. He's beginning to suspect that there's more to Lu Han than meets the eye. “I was born ready,” Minseok replies.

Lu Han breaks into a smile that's deadly. “Were you?” he asks, and then he drops the ball and launches himself forward.

He's _good_ , which Minseok had anticipated, but he hadn't expected Lu Han's wicked competitive streak. Minseok has to fight to keep up with him, and his lack of practice is obvious. Lu Han dodges nimbly around him, and the worst part is, he taunts. “You know,” Lu Han says, and he sounds almost casual as he steals the ball from Minseok yet again and darts away. “I wouldn't have bothered to ask you if I'd known you were this weak a challenge.”

Minseok lets out an outraged noise. His pride is being called into question? Oh, it's on. He charges after Lu Han, graceless in the dewy grass, and it's only a lucky dive that saves Lu Han's kick from becoming a goal. “How's that for a challenge,” Minseok pants, wiping ineffectually at the mud now smeared all up his side.

“It's a start,” Lu Han concedes, helping Minseok to his feet. “You're really going to have to do better than that.”

Minseok chooses to answer this by wiping his muddy hand across Lu Han's shocked face. While Lu Han stands and sputters, indignant, Minseok takes advantage of his moment and drops the ball, dribbling his way up to Lu Han's makeshift goal. “Hey!” Lu Han shouts, sprinting after him.

“You never said anything about not playing dirty,” Minseok laughs. Lu Han collides with him a second after he shoots (and scores, he might add), sending them both crashing to the muddy grass.

“You're a cheater,” Lu Han tells him, his weight resting squarely on Minseok's shoulders. He's pleased to hear that Lu Han is _finally_ out of breath.

It takes him a few beats before he rolls off Minseok, but even then, he grabs a handful of Minseok's shirt and uses it to wipe his face clean. “I regret nothing,” Minseok says agreeably, and when Minseok turns to look at him, cheek still pressed against the damp grass, he sees the mud still smeared at Lu Han's hairline.

“You will regret it,” Lu Han vows. He jumps to his feet and collects the soccer ball, returning to bounce it off Minseok's head. “Come on. You don't really think one goal means you've won, do you?”

With a groan, Minseok hauls himself upright, flashes Lu Han a muddy grin, and then the chase is on again.

 

 

-

 

 

Nothing like the roar of a good house party, Minseok thinks. Chanyeol's entire shitty house throbs with the bassline of some mediocre band, blaring out the speakers in his living room, and of people doing their best to talk over the noise. Minseok himself is sprawled out on Chanyeol's couch, listening to Chanyeol enthusiastically outline a song he's been working on. The thing about a drunk Chanyeol is that he becomes a hazard to everyone in about a ten foot radius. He's a hand talker, and beer dulls his spatial awareness enough that his long, gangly limbs are suddenly way more likely to end up in the wrong person's personal space. He's even worse when he's put his mohawk up, it's like his head is a weapon too.

He's rescued by the cold, heavy press of a beer bottle against his head. Minseok tips his head back to see Lu Han grinning down at him. Lu Han rewards him with another thump of his beer bottle. “Oh, you made it,” Minseok says, and it surprises him to realize how pleased he is.

Condensation from Lu Han's beer drips down his bottle to land on Minseok's forehead. “Hi,” he says. He looks just as out of place as ever in his cardigan and jeans, rolled up at the ankle, and Minseok kind of likes it. Lu Han has never made any attempt to blend in with the local wildlife.

Lu Han's arrival stops Chanyeol dead. He looks Lu Han over, beer stalled at his mouth. “I don't know you,” he says, finally. His mouth stretches into that broad, faintly unsettling grin of his. “I'm Chanyeol. This is my house.”

“Lu Han,” he replies with a bit of a laugh, raising his drink in greeting. His other hand slides down to rest against Minseok's shoulder. “Minseok invited me.”

“Apparently,” Chanyeol says. He opens his mouth to continue but there's a crash from the kitchen, loud and faintly worrisome. Chanyeol's eyes go wide. “My security deposit,” he hisses, and his head whips around. Minseok barely has time to dodge the swing of his faded orange mohawk.

Jongin pokes his head out of the kitchen, holding up one hand. “Everything's fine...” he says, although his tone says exactly the opposite.

“Kim Jongin, I swear to _god_ ,” Chanyeol groans and throws himself over the back of the couch.

“Should we go help?” Lu Han asks, his fingertips drumming against Minseok's chest for a second, before he skirts the couch to steal Chanyeol's seat.

Minseok shrugs. If Jongin is there, then so are Zitao and Joonmyun, he's sure, and at least Joonmyun is more than capable of handling all of them. “They've got it,” he says. He knocks his beer against Lu Han's knee. “Didn't know if you'd show up,” he says. “You never talk about parties.”

He's not expecting Lu Han to shove his feet into his lap and he raises his eyebrows, but Lu Han just smiles. “Apparently,” he says, “the magazine writers in this town aren't into that kind of thing. Something about, being responsible adults and a regular, nine to five schedule?”

“Responsible.” Minseok sounds out each each syllable like the word is entirely foreign to him. “I wonder what that's like.”

Lu Han laughs into his beer as his phone rings. Minseok raises his eyebrow at the ridiculously poppy ringtone, some kpop group that even he's heard of. “Just a sec,” Lu Han grimaces, and he presses the phone to his ear. “What?”

It's a private conversation, Minseok isn't trying to listen in, and he can barely hear his voice over the din anyway. But that doesn't mean he doesn't notice the way that Lu Han's face darkens, or how he wedges his beer between his knees so he can drag a hand through his hair. Minseok has only ever seen Lu Han friendly and civil, so it's startling to see him hiss his words out through gritted teeth, genuinely angry. “Don't call me again, and especially don't call me when you're this drunk,” Lu Han says with enough vitriol that it startles Minseok, and he hangs up.

Minseok doesn't pry, that's not his style, and he's not even certain they're at that point now. He just takes another sip of his beer and eyes Lu Han cautiously, saying nothing. He doesn't want to make things worse, either. “My ex,” Lu Han says carelessly, but the way that he clenches his hand into a fist against his thigh tells Minseok that his anger hasn't just disappeared. He pockets his phone, his gaze fixed almost heavily on Minseok. “He drunk dials me every weekend.” Ah. The weight of his eyes makes sense. He hears that stressed _he_. Even after a phonecall like that, Lu Han is still worrying about Minseok's reaction.

“You could block his number,” Minseok suggests, not even blinking. He knocks his knuckles against Lu Han's knee gently. “Every weekend? Man, is your dick magic or what?”

Lu Han throws his head back and laughs, and Minseok relaxes a little. “Yes,” he says, and he looks pleased. “Yeah, that's exactly it.” The smile doesn't leave his eyes, but he drains more than half of his beer in one long, prolonged gulp, and Minseok knows he's shaken. “How about you? Any crazy ex-girlfriends?” His words are measured. “Or boyfriends?”

“Nah,” Minseok says. His mouth twists. “I don't really date.” It sounds like a line, he's sure, but it's also the truth. He has no deep, sordid secrets in his dating life.

Lu Han cocks his head. “You don't date?” he asks curiously, and he raises his eyebrows. Minseok likes curious, he likes it better than angry. “Do I dare ask?”

He knows what Lu Han is thinking – that maybe someone had hurt him, hurt him so badly that he'd vowed never to let anyone in like that – but it's really nothing so dramatic. “There's nothing scary,” Minseok laughs. “I just have some spectacularly bad luck.” He tips a shoulder. “Bad luck, bad taste, bad timing, whatever. Dating complicates things.” No, it wasn't anything big. More like a series of tiny wounds, rejections and lies and injuries, and they all added up to one firm decision. “I am definitely anti-complications.”

He's glad that Lu Han doesn't pry further. “You sound so deep,” he teases, and Minseok punches his shoulder. “Do you write that in your blog posts?”

“You're the writer,” Minseok tells him. “I am a musician, remember? I put it all into the music.” He closes his eyes for a second and mimes a drumroll. “Can't you tell? That's real artistry.”

“Is that what they call it?” Lu Han muses. “I thought you just needed a bathroom break by the middle of your set.” His smile is deceptively sweet as he dodges Minseok's second punch, but the quick evasive action sends him toppling off the couch.

Minseok waves his empty beer bottle at him. “Hey, wanna get me a refill while you're down there?” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jongdae, something knowing in his smile.

He's startled by Lu Han, swinging a fist into his thigh. “I don't like you very much, Kim Minseok,” Lu Han declares, and Minseok can hear that every inch of it is a lie. Wobbly, and well on his way to drunk, Minseok hauls Lu Han to his feet and the two of them make their way to the kitchen. Maybe, if they're lucky, whatever Jongin broke has nothing to do with the alcohol in the fridge.

 

 

-

 

 

Minseok is flipping idly through a foreign magazine when Lu Han drops by the store a couple of days later. He's got his hands full of take out containers, and he's being trailed by Sehun. “You're early,” Minseok calls. He's not certain he likes the look on Sehun's face right now. He looks like a man with a plan, and since his plans usually suck for everyone else, Minseok is wary.

Dropping the containers on the counter in front of Minseok, Lu Han grins. “I brought lunch, does that make up for it?”

Jongin's head pops up over the racks in the back of the store, his expression hopeful. “Lunch?” he says. His hair is a tousled mess and Minseok is half convinced he was sleeping on the floor. That kid really needs to get more sleep.

“Oh no,” Sehun says, and he sounds delighted. He darts through the shelves to hook his arm in Jongin's. “You and I are going out to eat.” He drags Jongin towards the door.

“We are?” Jongin asks, baffled, and then Sehun jerks his head meaningfully at Minseok and Lu Han, standing by the cash, and his eyes widen. “Ohhh. We _are_.”

Minseok glances at Lu Han, but he looks unconcerned. “Hold hands so you don't get lost,” Lu Han tells them, and Minseok jumps up onto the stool behind the counter and pops open one of the containers. Ooh, jajangmyeon. “Don't talk to strangers and come straight back.”

“What _ever_ ,” Sehun scowls. The two of them pause at the doorway, and the matching smirks on their faces are kind of unnerving. “Have fun!”

Minseok stuffs a mouthful between his lips hastily, he'd missed breakfast. “Well, that wasn't suggestive at all,” he says, once he's managed to swallow.

“Sehun's always had an issue with subtlety,” Lu Han shrugs. He hoists himself up on the counter and slides one of the containers into his lap. “I hope you don't mind that I was early. I needed a break, my brain was fried.”

Minseok grins around his chopsticks. “Is that why your hair looks like that?” He reaches out and brushes a hand against the dye-fried ends of Lu Han's hair lightly, and he's surprised when Lu Han freezes, just for a second. The next moment, though, he's already laughing and knocking Minseok's hand away, and he almost thinks he'd imagined it.

“Like you can even talk,” Lu Han scoffs.

“I don't even _have_ hair,” Minseok protests, rubbing a hand across his close-shaved head. “How can it be offensive?”

Lu Han is a touchy guy, prone to invading space whether or not Minseok likes it, but he's still not expecting him to follow Minseok's gestures and trace gentle fingers across the crown of his head, where the hair is longer. It's unexpectedly intimate, and Minseok blinks up at Lu Han, surprised. “It just is,” he says softly, and then he clears his throat, pulling Minseok's container out of his hands. “Come on, share,” he says. “I bought it.”

“So that means you can eat it all?” Minseok shakes his head sadly. “You were a terror in kindergarten, weren't you?” He starts poking through another one of his own, and while they eat, he glances at Lu Han out of the corner of his eye, thoughtful. He's not blind to the way that Lu Han looks at him, sometimes, especially lately. He just hasn't decided how he feels about it quite yet. It feels like it could get complicated, and the last thing that Minseok ever wants is complications.

“I was an angel,” Lu Han tells him around a mouthful of food, and he grins. No matter what he's thinking, just like every other time, Minseok can't help but smile back.

 

 

-

 

 

When band practice wraps up, Chanyeol and Amber say their goodbyes, and then it's just Minseok and Jongdae left in the apartment. Minseok yawns and wipes futilely at the sweat that drips down his neck. He always likes the workout of a good practice.

They're lucky, with the space they have. Their landlady is a pleasant old ahjumma who's mostly deaf, and she never objects to what noise she can hear, as long as it isn't too late at night. The place is a bit rundown, but really, it's not like they can afford a palace on the money they make.

“So,” Jongdae says meaningfully. He throws himself down on their beat up couch, eyes on Minseok. “It's been a while since we hung out.”

Minseok shrugs a shoulder. “I guess,” he says. They kind of live together, and Minseok hadn't really thought about it. “I mean, I have to see your skinny ass in boxer shorts every morning, does that count?” He grins when Jongdae rolls his eyes at him. “I've just been busy, I guess.”

“With Lu Han, huh.” It's not a question. Minseok stands and slides out from behind the drum kit, pulling at the collar of his sticky shirt. Between their lunches, soccer in the mornings, and getting together for drinks in the evening, he supposes that it is a lot of Lu Han.

He doesn't answer Jongdae, instead choosing to turn his back on him, tidying up the mess that perpetual menace Chanyeol has left behind. Jongdae clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What?” Minseok asks, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. “He's fun to hang out with.”

“Okay,” Jongdae nods. He stretches out one skinny leg and prods Minseok with his toes. “Hey,” he says. “I thought you said you didn't date.”

Minseok raises an eyebrow. “What part of 'fun to hang out with' became 'dating'?” he asks, amused. Still, Jongdae's words make his shoulders stiffen.

“I'm just reading between the lines,” Jongdae says, but he holds his hand up in apology when Minseok's eyes get sharp. “Alright, alright, sorry. It's just been, you know, a while for you.”

Minseok snorts. “You're one to talk,” he points out. Other than his fervent daydreams about Kwon Yuri, it's not like Jongdae has been getting much play these days.

Jongdae's jittering hands still, and Minseok knows that means he's gearing up to say something important. “You know he likes you.” His voice is just this side of accusatory, but Minseok still hears it. Guilt prickles at the back of Minseok's neck.

“I know,” he acknowledges. “That doesn't mean – ” His words stutter to a stop, and the best he can manage is shaking his head and shrugging. He doesn't want to think about it. “We're just friends.”

When he glances up at Jongdae, he's got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his expression is serious. “Okay,” he says. “I'm just worried, you know?”

“Kim Jongdae, worried?” Minseok asks, smiling weakly. “Since when?”

He knows that misdirect was transparent, and so does Jongdae. Thankfully, though, Jongdae lets it slide. “Yeah, exactly,” he says, and he points a finger at Minseok. “So listen up, buddy.”

Minseok cups his hands behind his ears and sticks his chin forward, eyes wide. “I'm all ears,” he says. Jongdae wedges his heels against Minseok's thigh and very firmly shoves him off the couch. It's Minseok's good balance that saves him from landing on his ass on the floor. “You know,” Minseok says, “I'm the hyung here. Where's your respect?”

“Fuck your respect,” Jongdae tells him cheerfully, flipping the bird with both hands.

“Oh,” Minseok says. “I'll show you respect.” He grabs Jongdae's ankles and yanks, so that Jongdae is sprawled on his back on the couch, and then he promptly sits on his gut.

There's nothing so satisfying as the way that Jongdae groans, batting feebly at Minseok's waist as he struggles to breathe. Minseok catches Jongdae's wrists and holds them, grinning down at his red face until Jongdae begs for mercy. He doesn't even mind the way Jongdae spits out the 'hyung' at the end.

 

 

-

 

 

Last song of the night. It's nearly midnight, and Jongdae's last beer had mostly ended up all down his front. Minseok looks at the way that the shitty basement lighting catches in the sweat on Amber's bare biceps, and the way that Chanyeol licks at the corner of his mouth. “Boys and girls,” Jongdae growls, half-draped across the microphone stand. “One left. Let's make this a good one, alright?” He drags his ragged shirt over his head so that he's just left standing there, bare-chested and sweaty. “Let's give the neighbours something to complain about, right?” The crowd roars and Jongdae roars back.

They don't often play house parties, but when Devil Vengeance's guitarist invites you, you don't turn that down. There is a reason that Jongdae is at his howlingly, over the top best tonight, and it probably has something to do with the fact that Yuri is front and centre tonight, her eyes on him. When they'd last paused between songs, Amber had turned to Minseok, conspiratorial. “He must've sold his soul,” she'd said, loudly enough for Jongdae to hear her and scowl at them. “I can't _believe_ it. Dark magic at work. Satan and stuff.”

Jongdae, of course, had turned instead towards the audience. “I have an announcement,” he'd said. “Please enjoy this performance, it's gonna be the last one we have with our bassist, Amber. We've had a good run, but I'm going to have to kill her.”

“It's cute that you think you could,” Amber had laughed into Chanyeol's microphone. She'd reached out to ruffle Jongdae's sweaty hair and he'd turned this great shade of red, embarrassed in front of his lady love. If he was lucky, she'd find it endearing.

And now, as Minseok and the rest of the band slam their way through their last song, he's pretty sure that she did, considering that she's still grinning at him as he kneels and sings like the song is just for her. He's not sure how Jongdae caught the notice of a babe like her, but maybe it's just sheer persistence. Either way, good for him.

There's another face in the crowd that Minseok's had his eye on, too. Lu Han isn't right up in the pit, but he stands as near the makeshift stage as he can be without being in it. It's kind of funny, seeing Lu Han jumping around with everyone else. His faux-letterman jacket has long been abandoned but his brightly striped sweater still sticks out. He's so into it, shamelessly, and it makes Minseok grin, wide and fierce.

At the end of the song, Chanyeol throws down his guitar and climbs up on top of his amp. His head is pressed up against the ceiling and he can't even stand up straight, but he still spreads his arms and howls out at the crowd. Amber drags Minseok out from behind his kit and he stands, pressed between her and Jongdae, basking in the sheer wall of noise and appreciation from the crush of people in front of them. Maybe they don't make a lot of money, and maybe they have to keep their day jobs and beg for shows, but moments like this kind of make it all worthwhile.

When they finally get off stage, Minseok decides some refreshment is in order. He doesn't make it to the kitchen, though. “Not too bad,” Lu Han breathes. He's drunk, his sweaty forehead dropping to press against the back of Minseok's neck. “I mean, for some locals.”

“Wow,” Minseok deadpans. “I'm honoured.” He lets Lu Han press one warm hand flat against the small of his back, and he can't quite tell who he's steadying.

It's quiet in the hallway, further away from the thud of the stereo now. “You were very good,” Lu Han tells him. “A gold star for you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Minseok wonders if it's just that he worked it off during their set and Lu Han hadn't, but Lu Han is _really_ drunk. He wobbles, fingers clinging desperately to the damp fabric of Minseok's shirt for balance.

“Yes. Was that so hard?” Lu Han laughs too loudly, his face pulling in that ugly way that makes Minseok laugh himself. When Lu Han sways backwards, his head thumping off the wall, Minseok shakes his head. “I have _never_ seen you this drunk. Wow.”

Lu Han scoffs. “Sure you have,” he says. He leans back against the wall, and Minseok figures that's probably for the best. It's steadier than he is and less likely to move. “You were just as drunk as I was at the time.” His eyes flutter shut, lashes long against the flush of his cheeks.

“Point,” Minseok concedes. He glances up as Yuri pushes past, Jongdae in her wake. He snorts at the expression of pure glee and satisfaction on Jongdae's face. Good for him.

Lu Han hums, and Minseok looks back at him. Lu Han's eyes on him aren't particularly steady, but they are clear. “C'mere,” he says, gesturing for Minseok to lean close to hear. “Listen, listen. I know you don't date, but – ”

He never finishes the thought. As soon as Minseok is close enough, Lu Han grabs his shoulder and pulls him in. He's strong enough that it tugs Minseok off balance and he ends up pressed against Lu Han's chest. The kiss catches Minseok by surprise, and the first time, Lu Han almost misses, catching the corner of his mouth. Lu Han's determined, though, and Minseok's frozen, hands settled against Lu Han's waist. The second one is better. He can taste the soju on his tongue when Lu Han delves into his mouth, and for a second, Minseok lets it happen. Lu Han's lips are sweet and insistent and Minseok relaxes into it, despite himself.

Only for a second, though. “Wait,” he mumbles, trying to pull away. Lu Han only kisses him again. He straightens and Lu Han's smile fades, leaving poorly hidden uncertainty. “I can't,” Minseok says.

“Why not?” Lu Han pulls at Minseok's shirt again, and Minseok watches his throat work. “It doesn't have to mean anything. It's fine, I get it. No complications, right?” He leans in again, and this time Minseok is firm, pushing Lu Han back until his shoulders hit the wall.

“But it will,” Minseok says, and he hates that he has to say this, has to watch Lu Han flinch and try to cover it up. But it's true, right? “I can't do that.” _I can't do that to you_.

Lu Han looks at him for one long second, and then smiles. “It's fine,” he says, and he gently nudges Minseok's hand away. Minseok blinks at him. “I'm sorry, I never should have – I'm sorry.” He's halfway down the hallway before Minseok even realizes it, feet still unsteady but his back straight.

“That's not what I was saying,” Minseok protests, but Lu Han doesn't look back. It really wasn't, there's no reason for Lu Han to be sorry for anything. He's not mad. He just feels kind of hollow, all of his words sucked out, and he digs his nails into his thighs. He can taste soju on the backs of his teeth and the bone deep exhaustion he feels doesn't feel like the kind of thing that comes from playing a show. It feels like loss.

 

 

-

 

 

“Hey.” A balled up piece of paper bounces off of Minseok's ear and he flinches, frowning. Jongin is looking at him, head tipped curiously. He points at the clock. “You're not going out for lunch again?”

Minseok glances up. He doesn't really need the confirmation to know that it's long past when Lu Han usually shows up for lunch. “No,” Minseok shrugs one shoulder. “I guess not. You go ahead.”

Elbows resting on the counter in front of Minseok, Jongin pulls his lip ring into his mouth, eyes concerned. Sometimes, between all the posturing and scowling, Minseok forgets that Jongin's still pretty young. “Did something happen?” Jongin ventures. “Like, with you and – ” Minseok fixes his eyes on him and Jongin closes his mouth. “Sorry. I didn't mean to like, pry.”

“Nothing happened,” Minseok says. He turns back to the weekly paperwork he'd buried himself in. “Do we have to hang out all the time?”

It takes him a few seconds of consideration, but Jongin wisely decides not to answer that. “No, I guess not,” he says. He straightens up, and he still has that sympathetic look on that is really starting to grate on Minseok's nerves. “I'm, uh, gonna take my lunch then. If that's okay?”

“Please do,” Minseok says, more sharply than he'd intended, and Jongin's expression shifts to irritation.

He grabs his bag from behind the counter. “Don't sulk too hard,” Jongin says, and then he's headed out the door. It's good, because he doesn't have the energy to argue with him right now.

When he's gone, Minseok sits up straight on the stool and stretches his arms up over his head. He's stiff as hell from being hunched over for too long. He hasn't seen Lu Han since the party, not really. He supposes that's one of the pluses of moving in separate social circles – if you don't want to see someone, you never have to. He still answers Minseok's texts, but when he does, he's short, distant. He says he's busy, a lot.

It's not like Minseok doesn't get it. He doesn't figure it was all that fun for Lu Han, either. Still, it's weird. He knows that he hasn't known Lu Han for all that long, if he thinks about it, a couple of months. But he'd pushed his way into Minseok's life and carved out a space for himself and settled down. Not having him around makes Minseok unsteady. He reaches down to fumble in his bag and drags out his lunch. Leftovers. Well, he thinks as he sets it up on the counter in front of him, at least he's not spending all his money on street food anymore.

Small victories, really. He prods at his cold food, glances out at the empty store, and frowns again.

 

 

-

 

 

“So,” Minseok says, “I wake up to Jongdae, nothing but his boxers on, scratches all down his back, sleeping on the couch like he couldn't even make it to his room. I wake him up and all he can do is roll over, all wide-eyed, and go '...I might not have known what I was getting myself into.'”

Lu Han rewards him with a laugh, but it's brief, between the way he's making quick work of his lunch, and Minseok can't help but feel a bit disappointed. No matter how lame his jokes are, Lu Han has always laughed the hardest. But Minseok understands. He gets it. He does.

He watches Lu Han pop the last piece of tteokbokki hastily into his mouth and carelessly crumples up his garbage. “Lucky guy,” he says, and he smiles tightly. He doesn't quite meet Minseok's eyes, but it seems like he's been having trouble doing that since the moment he'd showed up at the door of the store to pick him up. “Hey, listen, I'm sorry, but I've got to get back to the office. Deadlines and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Minseok agrees. He looks down at his own food in his lap, half-finished. It seems silly, to be hurt. Lu Han has some stuff to deal with, and if Minseok pushes him to hang out all the time, isn't it just like he's saying that Lu Han's feelings don't matter? He'd never be that outright cruel. Lu Han stands. “Good luck with it.”

“I'll need it,” Lu Han says, but he looks up at Minseok and this time, the way that his lips curl up as he walks away, it looks a bit more genuine. Minseok will take it.

It's a cloudy day, and Minseok finishes the rest of his lunch on his own. He definitely doesn't think about the last time he spoke to Sehun, and the way he'd mentioned that their next issue wasn't due for another three weeks. Everyone needs a little distance, right?

 

 

-

 

 

 

Minseok gets his distance in the most literal sense, when Jongdae wheedles their way into playing a show in Busan. They're opening, but things go well, and they celebrate with a lot of drinking and a bit of dancing. They take the headliners with them when they head out, and it turns out to be a pretty good life choice. It's kind of an odd fit, opening for a duo like EXO. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are both tiny and look sweet, their music tending more towards straight up rock, but Minseok is fairly certain he's never heard anything like their voices. He's also fairly certain he's never seen anyone get on Chanyeol's level so fast, and by the time the night is over, Chanyeol and Baekhyun are swapping numbers and talking about jam sessions and split EPs already.

Run and Gun have decided to turn the trip into an actual vacation, and it means that instead of having to take that long drive back home, they've got a cheap hotel room to come home to. It means that they can all get messy drunk, too, which probably explains why Amber and Jongdae are full-on wrestling for the remote control right now

Even with a place to crash for the night, Minseok hadn't really partaken. He'd nursed a beer while the others played drinking games and threw back soju like it was water. One of them had to be able to get them back to their hotel in a strange city, he justified. That was it.

And now, back in their hotel room, he's kind of wondering of that was a mistake. Chanyeol is thankfully still giddy drunk, head hanging off one of the beds at an awkward angle, giggling as he watches Jongdae and Amber battle it out. It's too easy to feel like he's on the outside, let the things he's been pushing away for the past few weeks come creeping back in.

In the end, Minseok can't fight the temptation to pull out his phone and scroll down until he's found Lu Han's number. He does have the presence of mind to head out onto the tiny balcony they have and close the door behind him, at least.

Lu Han picks up after three rings. “Hi?” he says.

“Busan says hello,” Minseok says. He leans against the flimsy balcony railing and looks out at the late-night city lights. “How's your weekend going?”

“It's two in the morning,” Lu Han says, and there's enough irritation in his voice that Minseok's stomach sinks.

“Sorry.”

He can hear the way that Lu Han exhales through his nose. “No, it's fine, I was just coming back from Yixing's anyway. I guess you're helping me stay awake on the trip home.” Minseok's heard Yixing's name a hundred times, he knows he's Lu Han's best friend and coworker, he knows it all. But something still scrapes across his nerves at the sound of his name, and Minseok doesn't want to dwell on why.

“Lucky timing?” Minseok suggests. He shifts his weight from left to right, the concrete cool under his bare feet.

“Yeah, definitely.” In the pause, Minseok listens to the background subway noise coming from Lu Han's end. “How was the show?”

“Great,” Minseok enthuses. “Chanyeol nearly broke through the stage.”

It's funny how just the sound of Lu Han's genuine laughter is enough to warm the hollow in Minseok's chest. “Now that is rock and roll,” Lu Han says.

“Punk rock,” Minseok corrects, and he's smiling into the night.

“Right,” Lu Han agrees. There's the indistinct announcement of a stop in the background. “Ah, here's my stop. I've got to go.”

And there the smile goes, fading off his lips. “Yeah, alright,” Minseok says. He stares down at the railing, idly picking at the chipped paint. “I'd better go make sure that Jongdae and Amber don't kill each other over kids' cartoons.”

A quick goodbye, and then the line clicks off, and Minseok is left cradling his phone and looking down at the screen. He's not even sure why he wanted to call Lu Han, really. They still have lunch every once in a while. It's not like they've become strangers, even if sometimes it feels a little like that.

The glass door slides open behind him and Chanyeol steps out. Minseok glances back to see that Amber has come up victorious, and now she's got Jongdae in a headlock. Their faces are lit by the glow of the television, one serene, one miserable. “There you are,” Chanyeol says, slinging on companionable arm around Minseok. “You okay?”

“Peachy keen,” Minseok says.

Chanyeol tips his head, his cheek pressing against Minseok's hair. “Liar,” he says amiably. He doesn't follow it up with anything, though, so Minseok just pockets his phone and lets Chanyeol slowly rock them back and forth. “Trouble with Lu Han?”

“It's nothing,” Minseok says. It's becoming his refrain these days. “It's fine.” He just needs to give Lu Han the space he needs to work through his stuff. That's all.

“Sure,” Chanyeol says. “You've just been in a mope for weeks and Lu Han never comes to our shows anymore. What gives?”

Minseok makes a halfhearted attempt to shake Chanyeol off, but it's about as effective as he'd thought it would be. Chanyeol just squeezes him tighter, and not for the first time, Minseok curses his obscenely long limbs. “We're not attached at the hip,” Minseok protests.

“Alright, but you were,” Chanyeol points out. “You know it's okay to break your rule, right?” He pats Minseok's chest in a way that Minseok assumes is supposed to be reassuring, but mostly feels borderline painful. “Shit gets messy sometimes, that's kind of how life works.”

He doesn't want to admit it, but he's starting to, well, think. The ache in his chest won't go away, and he misses Lu Han, sometimes even when he's right there. “You're so drunk,” Minseok scoffs. He nudges Chanyeol with an elbow. “You're trying to get deep with me now?”

“Listen well, grasshopper,” Chanyeol intones. He uses his grip on Minseok's shoulders to turn them around and head back into the room.

“Like I'd listen to your bullshit right now,” Minseok laughs. He lets Chanyeol push him into the room and onto the other bed. That's enough thinking for one night. Decisions can wait until the morning. Right now, he's got to help Jongdae wiggle out from under Amber's arms of steel. He hears you kind of need a lead singer to get anywhere as a band.

 

 

-

 

 

The thing about working retail, especially when the store is dead during the days, is it involves a lot of mindless labour. Minseok doesn't even have to think about what he's doing as he moves through the racks with a box of albums, shelving new stock. Jongin has the day off – something about celebrating Joonmyun getting a big account with Zitao, he'd said with a smirk – so it's just Minseok until Amber can come in later, for the afternoon crowd.

It means he can't go out for lunch, but it's not like that's an issue much these days, anyway. Minseok spends most of his breaks parked behind the counter, smiling politely at the occasional regular who wanders in, and he gets a lot of time to turn things over in his head.

It's pretty clear by now that giving Lu Han space, well, it kinda totally fucking _sucks_. He's been spending a lot of time waiting for Lu Han to come to him, and it's just not happening. As much as he'd like to just turn back the clock and set their friendship back to what it had been, he's not childish enough to think that that's how things work. Feelings, as always, are complicated.

And maybe it's selfish, but Minseok wants him back. He misses their lunches and the stupid way his face contorts when he laughs the hardest. Minseok pauses in the DVDs, his box of shelving resting against his hip, and he bites his lip. Isn't that worth the risk? He pulls out a handful of movies and takes his time finding the right places for them. He supposes that he should worry about what it could mean for their friendship, but if they're already this distant, is it that big a deal? He thinks about the house party and presses his fingers against his lips for a second. Having Lu Han's smile back, it seems like it might be worth it. Might be some other perks, too.

The bell above the door rings and Minseok sticks his head around the shelves to greet the young woman who comes through the door. She gives him a nod and then buries herself in the new arrivals.

Minseok shakes his head and drags a hand through his overgrown hair. The thing is, even if he did decide that it was worth trying with Lu Han, where would he even start? He hasn't dated anyone for real since high school, and he's fairly certain that those kinds of tactics wouldn't really fly with Lu Han. He'd have to get creative, wouldn't he? Oh boy.

The woman at the front calls his name and waves the album she's picked out, smiling at him, and he drops his box and heads to the front. It only takes a few minutes for him to ring her through, and as she heads out the door again, Minseok pats his hand thoughtfully against his phone in his pocket. Maybe a little planning is in order.

 

 

-

 

 

This is, quite possibly, the most out of place Minseok has ever felt in his entire life. The magazine office is a very clean, white space, lots of pale wood desks and wide windows that let in so much light. Minseok wonders if he should have ditched his vest back at the store. He feels like a lost teenage delinquent, and he's fairly certain that from the way the woman behind the front desk is eyeing him, he looks the part. “Can I help you?” she asks. Her voice is civil but he can hear the distaste, without a doubt.

Minseok clears his throat. “I'm sorry,” he says politely. “I'm looking for Lu Han. Is he in?”

“Oh, you must be Minseok,” a voice calls from behind him, Minseok turns to see a slender man approach. His expression is amiable enough, but from the way that the guy examines him, Minseok feels a little bit like he is being sized up. As if he needed more pressure right about now. “I'm Yixing.”

Ah, the best friend. Well, that definitely explains the way he's eyeing him. “It's good to finally meet you,” Minseok says, and Yixing favours him with a smile. “I, uh, I came to see if Lu Han wants to go out for lunch?” He feels so _obvious_ , standing here, pulling nervously at a loose thread on his vest. He's not sure it was a mistake, really, but he feels woefully unprepared for the weight of Yixing's eyes on him.

“It's too bad that Lu Han is working through lunch today,” Yixing says. “I'll let him know you showed up.”

Behind his shoulder, Lu Han clears his throat. His arms are crossed and his expression is so carefully neutral that Minseok feels like a pin has been stuck in what little hope he had left. “It's fine, Yixing,” he says, and Yixing nods and steps aside. Minseok doesn't miss the quick press of his fingers against Lu Han's wrist as he leaves, or the way they exchange one long look, like they're communicating with their eyes. “Hey,” Lu Han says. There's something in his face that looks like intrigue “Never seen you around here before.”

“I know,” Minseok agrees. He tries on a smile. “I thought I'd return the favour, you know? Since you're always coming to the store.”

“Thanks,” Lu Han says, and he looks faintly surprised. “About time I got some payment for all those lunches I bought.” He glances back at his desk and he frowns. “I really do have to work through lunch, though.”

At least this time, Minseok is fairly certain he's not making it up. Still, he's kind of mourning his timing. “Yeah, of course,” he says, and Lu Han waves him off and disappears down a corridor. Minseok is left feeling a bit forlorn, in the lobby of the magazine. He glances up to see Yixing eyeing him again, but this time, he's almost sympathetic. Minseok flushes and ducks his head, making his way out of the building.

Swing and a miss.

 

 

-

 

 

Minseok finally gets another chance when Lu Han agrees to meet him for one of their soccer practices. Lu Han had begged off of them weeks ago, mentioning that his coworker had returned, so Minseok didn't need to feel obliged to show up every morning. This time, though, it had been Minseok's idea, and he did his best to be insistent about it.

He was setting up their improvised goal posts when he sees Lu Han approach, ball under his arm. It's too cold out for shorts, especially at this time of morning, but that doesn't seem to matter to him. “I wasn't expecting you to want to do this again,” Lu Han admits. He smirks. “But here you are, asking me to show up and kick your ass.”

Minseok straightens, pushing at his overlong bangs. “You're getting ahead of yourself here,” he suggests, and Lu Han shrugs a shoulder. “I can keep up.”

“Sure, sure,” Lu Han waves a hand and drops the ball down in front of him. He dribbles easily up to where Minseok stands. “The thing is, can you _beat_ me? I think we both know the answer to that.”

Grinning, Minseok sets down his water bottle as the last goalpost and then rests his foot on the ball. “Yeah, we do,” he says. This feels good. Even if there's an edge to Lu Han's words, a tension to his own shoulders, it feels a bit like the pieces slipping back into place. “Don't be too sad when you lose.”

Lu Han scoffs, and then he neatly steals the ball right out from underneath Minseok's foot. He pitches forward, struggling to catch his balance, and then has to run to catch up with Lu Han, already racing towards the other goal. Show off.

He's missed this. Even if he's out of breath within minutes, playing catch up as Lu Han ruthlessly nails shot after shot, it's the first time it's felt like anything approaching a sense of normalcy between them.

That doesn't mean that it's all fun and games, though. Lu Han has always been competitive, but he's not pulling any punches. He plows through Minseok to get to his goal, his point elbows digging into Minseok's gut as he passes. By the time they're at their usual half-time, Minseok feels like he's covered in bruises, both from Lu Han and collisions with the grass. But Minseok doesn't give up, not for a second. “I'm disappointed,” Lu Han declares, collecting one of their goalposts to take a drink. “I have twice the amount of points you have. Are you even trying?”

Minseok throws up his hands and laughs breathlessly. “What do you think?” he says.

Lu Han drops the water bottle. “I think you need to try harder.” Minseok closes his eyes and rubs at them with his hands, giving himself a beat to catch his breath before he gives chase.

If anything, Lu Han is even worse this time around. He'll have to leave soon, so he can shower and get to work, and it's like he's trying to cram the most punishing game of one on one soccer into the limited time they have left. Minseok hasn't given up, though, and he's only one point behind, soon enough.

He stands in front of his goal, arms spread as if to say _bring it on_ , and Lu Han's eyes narrow. He charges at Minseok, and neither of them look away. Minseok squares his shoulders and plants his feet but in the end, when Lu Han collides with him he still ends up tumbling to the ground, flat on his back, Lu Han sprawled across his chest. He realizes, with a start, that he can't remember the last time Lu Han touched him.

“You missed,” Minseok tells Lu Han, and he's pleased when Lu Han takes his time getting up.

“I still win,” he points out. He climbs to his feet and smiles down at Minseok, and it's broad and genuine enough to ward away the morning cool. He holds out a hand to help Minseok up, and Minseok takes it, gratefully.

“I'll get you next time,” Minseok promises, gathering up his things. He carefully avoids looking at Lu Han, waiting for his response.

He startles at the touch of Lu Han's hand, curled around his shoulder. “Better practice,” he advises. “You're really gonna need some work if you ever want to be as good as me.”

Minseok realizes suddenly that he's beaming. “Oh, I don't think it'll be that hard,” he says. Lu Han opens his mouth to argue, but Minseok spends more time laughing than anything as they walk home. He's too focused on the warm weight of Lu Han's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

 

 

-

 

 

“What am I?” Chanyeol demands, spreading his arms wide. Minseok leans back against the kitchen counter and tips his head, examining him. “Come on, guess.” Chanyeol's wearing a denim button-up shirt, one that is unfortunately ragged, and these weird leather pants over a pair of his jeans.

“A leather fetishist?” Jongdae suggests. He's got a cape around his shoulder and fake blood dripping down his face, his best effort at a vampire costume. Minseok knows that he had fangs at some point, because he tried to bite him with them, but they seem to have gotten lost.

Chanyeol looks appalled while the rest of them laugh. “I'm a cowboy!” he exclaims, gesturing down at his long legs and frowning. “A cowboy! Don't you get it?”

“Where's your hat?” Amber asks. “Dude, every good cowboy needs a hat.”

“And the boots?” Minseok suggests. Amber nods solemnly. Her costume consists of a Batman t-shirt and a cheap black mask, now hanging around her neck.

Chanyeol looks crestfallen. “It wouldn't fit with my hair,” he begins, but he's drowned out by the rest of them laughing at him, and finally he gives up. “Whatever,” he says. He points a long finger at Minseok. “You can't even talk. Where's your costume?”

Minseok gestures at the headband perched on top of his overgrown hair. It's got ears. “I'm a cat,” he says.

“What is the _point_ of a costume party if none of you are going to _try_ ,” he moans. He abandons them when Baekhyun sticks his head around the doorframe and crooks a finger, beckoning, and he grumbles the whole way.

“Hair's getting long,” Amber says, and she reaches out to tug on his bangs, hanging in his eyes. “You're looking kind of shaggy for a cat. More like a dog.”

He bats her hand away. “It's not that bad,” he insists. He bends down to squint at his reflection in the microwave. It is getting long, wow. He hadn't even thought about it, but he can't remember the last time he shaved it down. He frowns at his reflection and rubs a hand across his bangs.

“I might have to take you upstairs and just shave your head,” Jongdae laughs. Minseok takes a swing at him and it's a good thing he wasn't trying too hard to hit him, because Jongdae just barely manages to dodge it.

“It is getting pretty bad,” a voice says from the doorway. Lu Han stands there, drink in hand. The sight of him makes Minseok break into a grin. He hadn't known if Lu Han would show up, but he's so glad he did.

Maybe it's that Minseok has enough beer in his system to make it seem like a good idea, but he speaks, suddenly. “Hey, do you wanna cut it for me?” he asks. Lu Han laughs, and Minseok shakes his head. “No, like, seriously. I know Chanyeol's got an electric razor upstairs, how do you think he maintains that orange monstrosity?”

“I could do it,” Jongdae offers. He sets his drink down on the counter and taps his chin, looking thoughtful. “Think of what we could do to your head.”

Amber snorts. “Nobody wants you in control of possibly sharp machinery, Jongdae.”

“That's offensive,” Jongdae replies.

“What, you think I'm going to be any better than him?” Lu Han snorts. “What if I fuck it all up?”

“It's not that hard,” Minseok says.

“Yeah, look at it,” Amber says, waving a hand at him. “Long on top, short on the sides. It's not rocket science.” When Lu Han takes a closer look at Minseok's hair, Minseok glances at her, and she wiggles her eyebrows and grins.

Lu Han pauses. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Minseok shrugs. “It's just hair,” he says. “Worse comes to worst, I'll just get you to shave it all off again.”

“Alright,” Lu Han agrees. “You got me. Let's do this.”

They end up settling in Chanyeol's bathroom. Minseok sits on the toilet with a towel draped around his shoulders while Lu Han plays with the electric razor, trying to figure it out. “You're not going to hate me if I mess this up, right?”

“I don't think I ever could,” Minseok says honestly, and Lu Han pauses, just for a second, before he's lowering the razor to Minseok's head.

There's something soothing about the buzz of the machine as Lu Han works, slow, careful strokes of the razor from his temple to the back of his head. He has his other hand pressed lightly to Minseok's head, keeping him steady as he works, and his face is close enough to Minseok's that it makes him want to close his eyes. Minseok is struck, again, by the intimacy of Lu Han's fingers against his scalp. He can clearly hear the din from the rest of the house through the thin bathroom door, but in here, it's just the noise of the razor and the sound of Lu Han's breath.

“I'm sorry I pushed you away,” Minseok says suddenly, and he almost regrets it when Lu Han's hand wobbles a little.

“No,” Lu Han says after a second's hesitation. “I pushed you away first.” He stops to brush the cut hair off Minseok's ears. “I didn't mean to – I just had to. I'm sorry.”

Minseok licks his lips and swallows. “No, I mean, for literally pushing you away. At the house show.”

This time, Lu Han full-on freezes. It lasts for a long second, long enough for Minseok to worry about his proximity to the machine, but then Lu Han lurches back into motion. His eyes are fixed on the buzzing razor in his hand and when he speaks, his words are measured. “You mean, when I kissed you.”

“Yeah.” Minseok almost nods before he remembers that Lu Han is trying to cut his hair.

Speaking of. Lu Han nudges Minseok's head away from him, so he can get at the hair at the back of his neck, and Minseok lets him, turning willingly. “Why?” Lu Han asks.

Minseok glances at him, but Lu Han is still focused at the task at hand. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but Minseok thinks that that's hope on Lu Han's face. He knows Lu Han that well by now, doesn't he? “How dumb is it if I say that rules are made to be broken?” Lu Han's snort is loud in the little room, even over the noise of the razor. “I know, I know,” Minseok says, and he holds up a hand. This time, when he sneaks a look, he can see that Lu Han's eyes are on him. Emboldened, Minseok forges on. “I just didn't want things to get all messy, but they kind of did anyway.”

“Sorry,” Lu Han says again. He skirts around Minseok's knees and starts work on the other side of his head.

“Nah, isn't that kind of how things work?” The back of his neck itches and Minseok wipes the cut hair away with a sweaty palm. “I was trying to stop things before they got messy, but I just kind of ended up making things worse. You know you kind of muscled your way in here – ” He presses a hand against his chest. “ – and then you were gone. And the worst part is, you're a decent drunk kisser.” Lu Han lets out a little shout of laughter before he claps a hand across his mouth and gestures for Minseok to continue. “But what's the point of doing something to save your friendship if you don't stay friends? So I thought – ” He frowns. “Is this making any sense at all?”

“You're doing okay,” Lu Han says. Minseok turns red. He can see the way that Lu Han smiles a little as he delicately pulls Minseok's ear out of the way of the razor. “Go on. So you thought...”

Minseok licks his lips. “So I thought, what if we gave this a try?”

“'This'?” Lu Han echoes. He brushes off Minseok's neck with careful fingers and if Minseok didn't know any better, he'd think that his hand lingered.

“Us,” Minseok elaborates. He looks up at Lu Han hastily. “I mean, if you're still interested.”

Lu Han turns his head back into place with a firm hand. “Careful. I'm almost done. Stay still.”

Minseok waits a beat, but Lu Han doesn't come up with a reply for his proposition. He digs his fingertips into his knees, almost sick with the anticipation. Or maybe the shots from earlier in the night. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Don't be sorry, be still.” Lu Han finishes up with the back of Minseok's neck and clicks the razor off. He smooths a hand down the still long hair at the top of Minseok's head and down the freshly-buzzed hair at the back, resting against the base of Minseok's skull. “Yes.”

“Wait, what?” Minseok asks, blinking up at him. Hope is buzzing under his skin but he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, he can't.

“Can't you listen?” Lu Han says, which Minseok is pretty sure is unfair. Any complaints he might have had die when Lu Han bends over him, using the hand on the back of his neck to pull him in, and kisses him.

This time, Minseok lets go. He reaches up to cup Lu Han's face in his hands and hold him steady. His senses are still a little dulled from the beer, but it doesn't stop him from noticing the warmth of Lu Han's lips, or the expert way he licks into Minseok's mouth. He lets his eyes slide shut as Lu Han strokes a thumb across the newly shorn hair at the back of his neck, and it just feels so _nice_.

It's Lu Han that pulls away first and before he straightens, his nose brushes up against Minseok's. “I'm getting a crick in my back,” he says, almost breathless, and Minseok grins up at him helplessly.

“Quit complaining,” he says. “I still need you to finish my hair.”

Lu Han rolls his eyes and laughs at him, that wide, genuine laughter, and it feels like the last piece sliding into place in his ribcage. He presses his hand over his heart again, just in case he can feel it. “Just for that, I'm gonna ruin it,” Lu Han declares, and he winds a hand in what little hair Minseok has and tugs.

Right now, Minseok doesn't think he'd even mind.

 

 

-

 

 

“Three, Kris, c'mon.” Jongdae presses his palms together and pouts pleadingly.

Kris, on the other hand, looks pained. “Do we really have to go through this every time?” he says. “One, you insufferable mooch.” He snaps a clean rag in Jongdae's face, making him stumble backwards and yelp. “Keep this up, you guys are never going to play my bar again.”

Shaking his head, Minseok turns back to survey the crowd. Kris makes threats like this at least once a month. He never follows through. The crowd is good tonight, though, which is extra encouraging, seeing as they're headlining. He wonders if this counts as making it big.

“Uh huh,” Amber says, lifting her beer to her mouth with a smirk. “Sure we won't.”

Kris frowns at her. “No more free beer if you keep undermining my authority,” he says. She stretches out an arm and pats his cheek gently, and then slides off her stool, headed up towards the tiny stage to sound check.

“Three,” Jongdae tries again, and Kris groans, throwing up his hands and retreating to the other end of the bar.

Minseok tips his head back to drain his beer, ready to follow her, when thin arms wind around his waist. “Will nobody take pity on that poor, alcoholic fool,” Lu Han sighs, resting his chin against Minseok's shoulder.

“I heard that,” Jongdae says. “And I agree.” He lifts his head and cups his hands around his mouth. “Pity the poor alcoholic fool,” he bellows.

“Get your ass on stage,” Kris shouts back.

Jongdae considers this. “Does this scenario end in free beer?”

“I'm actually going to strangle you,” Kris replies pleasantly. “Make your choice.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes and then stomps towards the stage. 'Bossy', he mouths to Minseok as he passes.

“I should go,” Minseok says. Lu Han makes a small noise of dissent, but that doesn't surprise him. He gently nudges Lu Han away, turning in the circle of his arms until he can see him and then his eyes widen. “You did it!” he exclaims, pulling at Lu Han's cotton candy pink hair.

“I said I would, didn't I?” He tips his head. “You like it?”

If anything, he sticks out even more at Kris' bar, a bright spot in the sea of blacks and greys. Minseok grins. “It suits you,” he replies.

“Obviously,” Lu Han says. He curls a hand around the back of Minseok's head like it belongs there, tugging him forward until they're forehead to forehead. “Knock them out,” Lu Han says.

“Don't I always?” Minseok asks. He can hear Jongdae calling his name, but he ignores it for a second. He wiggles his way out from under Lu Han's arms. “Am I gonna see you in the pit?”

Lu Han shrugs. “You never know,” he suggests.

“I'll look after him.” Minseok glances over to see Joonmyun raising his drink in greeting. “No bruised up boyfriends for you.”

The word boyfriend still sends that jolt through Minseok, equal parts thrilling and kind of nerve-wracking. “I don't need a babysitter,” Lu Han retorts, but he takes in Joonmyun's neat haircut and tailored blazer. “Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Lu Han.” He sticks out a hand. “I've never seen you around. Wild scene, right?”

Minseok has to bite his lip to hold back his laughter at the condescending look that Joonmyun gives Lu Han. “Really wild,” Joonmyun agrees, nodding seriously.

Before Minseok can make a quick getaway so that they can actually start their set (even Amber's watching him from the end of the room now, eyebrows raised impatiently), a hand settles on his back. He glances back and Lu Han just grins at him, saying nothing.

Minseok grins back, and then he jogs to the stage, pushing through the crowd to throw himself down behind his kit.

“Now that our drummer has deigned to honour us with his presence,” Jongdae says, “Maybe we can get on with our set.” He looks back pointedly at Minseok, so Minseok blows him a kiss. “What's up, kids? We're Run and Gun!” The noise from the crowd is deafening and as Minseok launches into the beat of their first song, his eyes find Lu Han at the back of the room.

He doesn't think he's played a better set in his life.


End file.
